Ghost Ship, Ghost Stories
by Kalira69
Summary: Taro is new on board the Arcadia and while it was intimidating before, listening to Yattaran's stories about the unique, haunted ship has made him . . . jumpy. Unfortunately for an unsuspecting figure coming around a corner in the shadows and surprising the new recruit. (Movie-'verse. Outsider POV.)


Written for a request from General Zargon.

* * *

"Don't be too skittish, though!" Yattaran said with a laugh. "It's that _ghost_ in the ship that keeps the Arcadia flying. No other ship like her." He patted the console beside him fondly and Taro looked around nervously.

The ship was dark and imposing, as it had seemed from the outside and if anything only more so as he stepped on board. That was . . . almost reassuring, in a way. Nothing had changed, there were no spectral figures to accompany the occasional inexplicable noises, no-

"Now get on with you! There's work to be done, and after that you're off-duty. You know where your bunks are already." Yattaran glanced over the five of them and they all nodded. A few moments later and they dispersed to their scattered duties, and Taro hurried along the dark corridors alone, focusing hard on the instructions he had been given and hoping he didn't get lost in the belly of the dark ship.

Fortunately he found the right place after only one near-miss - the door he had wrongly tried to open had made an alarming creaking noise, then refused to open for him. He had panicked for a moment, then realised on a second look that he was in the wrong place. He had no idea what was beyond the door he had been trying to force open, but it was _not_ one of the simple storage decks like the one he'd been sent down to. Taro had taken himself off swiftly, thankful not to have been found there.

Carefully picking his way through the narrow confines formed by walls of crates, Taro located one of the smallish crates marked with a green circle on the top and picked it up with a quiet sigh of relief. He backed out of the narrow space with a shudder for the tight quarters and hurried out of the small, dimly amber-lit storage deck, mind full of Yattaran's tales, which were meshing unsettlingly with ghost stories half-remembered from his youth.

He paused once back in the corridor, reorienting himself correctly - he hoped - and headed for the next level down.

Something moved in the dark space just at the edge of an alcove, coming towards him. Taro yelped and threw his crate at it without thinking, heart racing and eyes wide.

"Ow!"

Taro froze before he could scramble any further backwards. Surely a ghost wouldn't sound so. . .

Would a ghost even care about a crate being thrown at it?

Taro stood tall again, then carefully inched forward, peering over the crate. It shifted and tumbled to the floor with a push from an outstretched hand, revealing a slender man with a blood-smeared face and a stark white skull and crossbones on his tunic over his heart. He looked up at Taro, his other hand clasped over his nose, and Taro realised he was wearing an eye patch like the Captain's.

. . .and there was a scar crossing his cheek and nose, leading under it, like the Captain's, though it was much thinner and less . . . alarming. The Captain's face looked like someone had once tried to tear it open.

The man brought his outstretched hand back in to cover the one already on his face, the little Taro could see of his expression pinching. More blood dripped between his fingers and from beneath them, down past his mouth. Taro must have hit the other man squarely in the face with the crate when he'd flung it.

"Um. Are you-" Taro began, and a warm brown eye ticked up to meet his gaze again.

"Yama!"

Taro jumped, eyes widening. He stumbled back and nearly collapsed as the shadowy figure of the _Captain_ materialised in the corridor seemingly out of nowhere.

"Hello dear."

Taro's eyes widened even further as he looked, horrified, down at the man - Yama? - on the floor. The Captain glared at Taro, and even the brief second before his gaze moved away as he dropped to his knees beside Yama made Taro want to hide.

Taro vaguely remembered hearing one of the older crew talking about Yama, but remembered nothing other than the name and that he had somehow been instrumental in the Arcadia's largest tangle with the Gaia Coalition. The one that had started the current instability in the government.

Yama reached out with one hand, patting the Captain's shoulder. He clasped it with his own, frowning as he looked Yama in the face, reaching for him. "What _happened_?" he half-growled.

Taro's legs went weak under him and he wondered if he was going to be thrown off the ship into space for attacking the Captain's. . .

"I'm fine. _Harlock_ , I'm fine." Yama said, a little thickly, one hand still cupped around his nose. The Captain glowered and Taro recoiled, swallowing back a whine. "It was an accident. Really," he made a soft sound that might even have been a laugh, "it's lucky he didn't run into Miime instead."

"Why?" the Captain asked, helping Yama carefully to his feet and supporting him.

". . .are you really unaware that Miime floats around looking all otherworldly or are you just so used to it you don't realise it could be alarming?" he asked, sending an amused, almost playful look Taro's way.

Taro smiled weakly, remembering seeing the creepy Niflung do just that yesterday, drifting across the back of the bridge.

The Captain still looked a little blank.

Yama lowered his other hand from his face - Taro winced at the sight of it; there was thick blood coating his upper lip and smeared across his cheek, and Taro worried he might have broken the man's nose - and tugged lightly at the Captain's cape. "Stop glaring, dear." Yama said, voice a little thick, smile crookedly.

"I'm sorry!" Taro said hurriedly, realising he hadn't even apologised for injuring the man. "You startled me and I thought-" he broke off, embarrassed.

"I was a ghost?" Yama said, and Taro stared at him. "You yelled it when you, ah, threw the crate." He nodded towards it, then winced, stiffening.

The Captain wrapped an arm around his waist. "Are you sure you're all right, love?" he asked, gloved fingertips just brushing Yama's cheek.

"Fine." He gingerly touched his own nose. "Not broken, pretty sure. I just need to clean up . . . and maybe some ice."

The Captain kissed his temple. "We can do that." he said softly. Then he looked back and Taro. "And you-"

"Harlock." Yama said, leaning in against his shoulder. The Captain frowned slightly, then sighed.

"Be careful." The Captain said, gaze flicking back up to meet Taro's. "The ship may be unique, but it isn't home to any ghosts." he added with a snort.

"Unless you count Tochiro?" Yama said as the Captain drew him away. "Or you, I suppose. Or, in a way, any of us that were on board when the dark matter. . ."

They continued out of earshot and Taro sagged against the wall in half-terrified relief. A moment later he let himself slide down it to the floor. He was faintly amazed not to have been punished, after the Captain had just shown up like that. And the other man! Taro hadn't realised that the Captain had a . . . lover? He shook his head, swallowing nervously.

Yama's mutters as they left him behind hadn't made Taro feel much better about the possible haunted nature of the ship, if that was what they'd intended, either.

Taro rubbed his face and looked at the crate he'd dropped - thrown - on its side nearby and hoped there was nothing damaged inside. He looked around warily and picked it up again, trotting off in the opposite direction the Captain and Yama had just gone, hoping he could still remember - _find_ \- where he was supposed to be taking the green-marked crates he'd been sent off to retrieve.

* * *

Yama made a tiny whining noise as Harlock dabbed at the congealing blood on his face with a wet cloth, the lines around his eye tightening. Harlock gave an apologetic murmur as he stopped to pull off Yama's eye patch before it could get wet - or bloody. He frowned, gently testing the feel of Yama's nose with his fingertips.

"Harlock! Ow!" Yama said, jerking back and giving Harlock an unhappy look.

"Did _you_ want to check if it was broken?" Harlock asked, brushing his thumb more gently over Yama's cheek. He sighed, leaning into the touch, eye falling half-closed. "It's not." he added, relieved. Although Yama would likely have a spectacular black eye, given how hard he appeared to have been hit in the face.

A gentle nudge tipped Yama's head up again, giving Harlock a better angle to wash the rest of the blood off his face. Yama didn't protest any further, slouching back and leaning his head against the wall.

Harlock cupped his lover's jaw, bending close as he finished scrubbing off the last few dried smudges of blood. He kissed Yama's brow before straightening, and he hummed softly, eye closed.

Harlock turned towards the sink, rinsing the cloth he'd used mostly clean of blood and wringing it out.

"I should get back to work." Yama said, voice low. Harlock turned back to him, cocking an eyebrow. He'd already gotten up from his seat, one hand braced against the wall. "I was in the middle of-"

"You should _sit down_ and rest for a while, so you don't aggravate that into bleeding everywhere again." Harlock contradicted, drawing Yama towards himself and heading through back into the bedroom. "You're sure it was an accident?" he asked, eye narrowing. He hadn't really looked over the new recruits himself any more than watching as they were brought on board and tested.

Yama sighed, leaning against his shoulder. "It was an accident." he said again, sounding not at all uncertain. "And he looked like he was going to have a heart attack when you glared at him, really, was that necessary?"

Harlock huffed but didn't answer - yes, it had been; it may have turned out that injuring Yama had been nothing more than an accident caused by a jumpy new recruit, but Harlock's reaction had been perfectly reasonable. He dropped his arm from around Yama and settled on the broad chaise in their bedroom.

Yama sat just beside him and curled into his shoulder without any further protestations about how he should get back to the greenhouse deck. Which meant it didn't _really_ need his attention right now, or he would have gone even if his nose _had_ turned out to be broken. Or probably even if he'd been hurt worse, as long as he could still walk. Yama was very devoted to his plants.

With that thought, Harlock kissed his sweet lover fondly on the temple, shifting to cradle him closer. He snuggled into Harlock's arms agreeably, hand sliding down Harlock's forearm to wind their fingers together.


End file.
